If you're looking for an adventure in the morally grey, and a crash course of the human condition, this is the story for you! What is good and evil? Where is that line drawn, and who decides that? Packed with humor, danger, feels, and awkward relati...
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Someone knocked on the door.
It was really strange, considering they had a bell that the officials used, and it couldn't be heard much past the kitchen. Who wanted to visit the pen?
Ian beat him to the door and opened it with just as confused a look as Nathan had. The man on the other side of the door took a step back on sight of Ian, but Nathan recognized him over Ian's broad shoulders. The swept-over chestnut hair, pinned back over his ears was easily noticeable as it wasn't a common hair style for someone who was in a uniform like Allen was.
"If it isn't the chief of police," Ian said, leaning on the doorframe to take nearly all of it up with an imposing stance. "Are you here to see if any of us are dead yet?" There was spite in Ian's voice, but Allen stood his ground, unclipping the holster for his gun at his side.
"Allen," Nathan greeted him, shoving Ian off the door frame. Having not expected his touch, Ian stumbled back, cursed, and then grumbled as he headed back to the kitchen. The entire time Allen tracked Ian's every movement, his hand never leaving his weapon.
"Nathan." Allen smiled lightly. The officer was older than he remembered, with a gentle crinkle near his eyes. The last time he'd seen him, Nathan had been scared out of his mind, so it was like he was seeing Allen for the first time.
"You have an... interesting relationship with him." Allen examined the wall that housed the kitchen with clear calculating assessment. The way he still had his hands ready near his waistband drew Nathan's eyes to the holster warily. Nathan didn't like guns, and Allen easily noticed.
"I'm a police officer. Your friend called me the chief of police because I pretty much am, though not by title. The current chief is a good friend of mine, and he doesn't manage the town as well as I do," Allen said, piquing Nathan's interest.
Most law enforcement and officials in this town were not fond of the LC Project, which is why the inmates leaned more heavily on the mob for protection. Allen picked up on Nathan's quick downward frown at the idea that the man might be trouble.
"I know, it's a shitty job. I gather you have heard of the Moceri family by now."
"Yes." Nathan sighed.
"Well then, you know my job is essentially shit, but someone has to do it." Allen looked into his eyes, searching for something in them. "Has it been okay here?"
Nathan immediately tensed up, and Allen sighed, running a hand over his hair.
"I'm not trying to shut this place down," Allen assured him quickly, but Nathan didn't trust him. It wasn't in Nathan to trust anyone outside of the pen anymore. "You don't believe me." Allen was quick, but Nathan also wasn't exactly difficult to read. "Where is Maggie?" Allen strode in like he owned the place, and Nathan followed him to the living room.
"I think she is up with Julian," Nathan said, surprised the man was actually in the pen after all he'd sputtered about never wanting to go near it.
